One of the women on my client site had a miscarriage this week. She was so pleased to be pregnant, and she is so very sad now. I sent her a note this morning, mostly to let her know that she isn’t alone.
I can’t take the pain away. I, of all people, know that. I know that I can’t fix this in any way, I can’t give her back the baby she wanted. I can’t remove the blood and I can’t make it hurt less. I can simply say that she isn’t alone.
Between my post yesterday and then finding out about my client this week, I have spent some time thinking about my miscarriages, about that season in my life. I have thought and felt long and hard about what it was like as all of my dreams were taken away from me, inch by inch.
Yesterday, a conversation with a former colleague from my old company. I needed a favour from him, and I had left him a voice mail on Tuesday. He called me back as I stood in the boarding lounge at the Vancouver Airport.
Jokingly, with the announcements about baggage and priority boarding playing in the background, a sea of chattering people around me, he asked if I was living the dream.
I laughed. Not at the noise or the inconvenience of air travel. Not at missing both breakfast and lunch yesterday, not at a meeting that went completely sideways and left me with a list of defects as long as my arm to solve.
I laughed because I am.
I love my job. I love everything about it. Well, I suppose, not everything. (See note about meeting that went sideways). A year on, I am living the dream. I go interesting places, I do interesting things. I work with good people. I do good things.
And at the end of it, I will walk into my front door. A husband who loves me will wait for me with the light on. The dogs will bark and race around. The cats will turn up and rub against me, meowling in their annoyance that I left them.
Mr. Spit will carry my briefcase upstairs and leave it in my home office. I will crawl into my own bed, snuggle up next to him, with cats at my feet.
In the morning I will stumble down the stairs and make coffee in a kitchen that we renovated. I will work in a home office that was going to be a nursery, and is now a pleasing shade of blue. The sunshine will fall over my right shoulder onto my screen and the dogs will doze on the couch behind my desk.
I will live my life in different cities, challenging myself, contributing. I will type this quickly, waiting for a friend to arrive for coffee.
We could call this living the dream. If it is a dream, it is not one I ever conceived of. The sunlight is more golden, the scents and sounds of home are sweeter, and the challenges of my work are more deep than I could have ever imagined.
But, in the middle of the Vancouver boarding lounge all the same – “Yes Dan. I’m living the dream. I didn’t know this was my dream, but yes, I’m living it.”